Of course- of course. Aerith belongs to that dream world. (It's so hard to think right now, and she's too tired and too finished to even protest that hand that brushes her forehead. It feels soothing.)

The only thing they seem to agree on is that rest. It'd feel so good to give up. She wasn't ready for that battle anyway, and now her battles can be finished. There's something to be said for that. Right now, there's so much to be said for that, that she's begun to forget the things she wanted: her normal life. The healing had helped the cuts, the bruising, the smudged and beaten skin; but that hole at her chest says so much more, and it doesn't seem touched.

"It's alright," she says. "They matter on Earth, not here."

This raises a very good question. "If I'm already gone, why am I still able to see you?"